Unfettered III

  Placing my hand on the wall, I caressed the cold rock from which I’d come. I heard again the voice of that first intruder telling me Qual’Jom was dead. How long had it been since my master left? All the invaders came seeking power or revenge. I now began to wonder what secrets my master researched in this lair. He’d once told me his efforts were designed to improve the world, but the captain of the invaders had called those studies “forbidden arts.” What was I to believe?

  The blood on my rocky body dried quickly. A melancholy silence fell upon the cavern as I lingered in my alcove.

  I realized now that I missed my master. I yearned for his warm voice. I tried in vain to recall his humorous stories. He’d left our home in order to fulfill my desire, and perhaps died for it. Was there nothing I could do to bring him back? I would sweep the floor forever, re-chalk the summoning circle a thousand times, if only it would return him to me.

  I called to my master in the lonely darkness, but only my echo replied.

  I shifted my attention outward and listened for the faintest vibrations of a three-legged man returning home. He would walk with his staff in one hand and Quolosin’s Fire in the other. There would be no wrath or greed in his step, only peace.

  Yet he did not come.

  And so once more I waited, and the passing months rolled into years. During that long interval of despair my senses grew stronger, more expansive. I gradually became aware of the rush and crash of something beyond the back wall of the cavern. I reached out through the earth, melding with the stone, until I came at last to its edge and sensed moisture. I perceived a crash of water, followed by its retreat. Then another crash, and another retreat. I counted this tidal rhythm for innumerable cycles and at last determined that my cavern must be deep within a cliff, at the edge of an ocean. I clung to this new world I’d just discovered, trying to fathom how it would be perceived by those who possessed sight. I could neither sleep nor dream, but my sense of wonder knew no bounds.

  The years withered to decades, and more invaders came to call. I killed without discrimination, refining my physical skill to minimize damage to the dwelling. None of them could harm me, yet still they came, pathetic as they were. From the words they spoke, it seemed I had gained a reputation in their world.

  I cared not, and annihilated them all.

  In one of those years, lost somewhere in the span of time, with the corpses of innumerable would-be conquerors heaped in every corner, a new set of unwelcome guests arrived. Unlike the men and women who came bearing swords and words of sorcery, the creatures that now shuffled into the cave did not come with aggression in their hearts. Dozens of them scuttled in, walking on clawed feet and knuckles, cackling in a crude language. They gagged at the stagnant air, which reeked of death. I towered over them, preparing to unleash my slaughter if they made the slightest move toward my master’s possessions.

  Yet they did not come forward. They cowered as far away as possible, scratching the walls and earth in fear. At last the heaviest of them scampered forward. I heard the rattle of bones as he spoke.

  “Golem of Qual’Jom,” he hissed, and I hated it all the more for the blasphemous use of my master’s name. “Great golem who could crush us all. Hear what I have to say.”

  I did not kill the wretched thing. That was answer enough.

  His voice shook as he went on. “We are kovul. We seek to live in the tower above. We—” He cut off as I curled my massive fists at my side, the sound of crackling stone sending a warning through the cavern.

  “Plu-please, great golem,” it begged, all pretense of propriety gone. “Spare us. We will keep interlopers out! We will prevent any who try to reach this cavern! You will never be disturbed! Please!”

  I could not determine if the weak and miserable creatures were human or some pathetic reject of nature. In the end I simply nodded. As they scurried out, I commanded them to remove the corpses. They delighted in this, as they did in the looting of weapons and other treasures left by the invaders. I gave them only one other command.

  “When my master returns bearing Quolosin’s Fire, he is to be welcomed and led directly to me.”

  Soon after, I felt them place a heavy metal door at the top of the long stairs leading to my cavern, isolating me further.

  The bargain proved to be well made. At first I had no care for the tower above, and I learned to block out the scuttling society living there. They were a crude race, constantly squabbling as they feasted and fornicated. Yet they upheld their bargain, and the marauders never disturbed me again. From time to time I sensed strangers approach the tower, but the kovuls set upon them with their cunning little traps.

  Once more I settled in to wait for the coming of my master. Decades churned outside the dwelling while all remained timeless within. The kovuls kept me isolated, and I was not disturbed.

  They never knew it, but through my senses, I experienced much of their lives and culture. I witnessed their society flourish with success and all that comes with it: children, conflicts, community, and death. The process of life revealed itself to me generation after generation. I listened as the elders recounted their tales about me to their offspring, who in turn passed it onto theirs. Their genuine relationships became an unexpected comfort in my lonely darkness.

  And then I sensed them all die in a great plague.

  I could do nothing. Their moans and cries floated down upon me like motes of dust. I turned my face toward the cavernous roof in mournful silence as they dwindled away. I could not see, but my acute awareness described every bleeding gasp they took. It saddened me how quickly life could be wiped out.

  When at last they were all gone, I mourned in my silent way and pondered my own fate. Had my master intended me to die? Or was it in my inherent nature to live forever?

  Only silence answered my questions, and no others came to call for a very long time.

  The quiet centuries turned, and I waited in my isolated world. The thickening dust remained my only companion. The length of my life since awakening—always vague to me—shifted firmly into the unknowable. I waited for my master, knowing he would fulfill his promise and return with Quolosin’s Fire to grant me sight.

  I cataloged every pebble and fiber of my cavern, along with its contents, the abandoned tower above, and the mountainous cliff that encased it all. So gloomy was my environment that even the phenomenon of sound abandoned me, save for the eternal crash of the tides on the distant cliffs of stone.

  The constant drip of water in the far corner wore away the bedrock, hollowing out a smooth basin. I felt every drip of this process, every tiny deterioration of stone. My form did not change, yet I blindly observed the abrading shape of my residence. The stalactites grew long, reaching toward the ground before joining with stalagmites to form what must have been a mesmerizing lattice of columns.

  I’d long since lost count of how many hundreds or thousands of years passed, when at last I felt the footsteps of a living creature. The person who approached bore a staff, walked with light footsteps, and dragged worn robes in his wake. Lifting my head in interest, I waited as the newcomer neared the kovuls’ metal door, which had somehow survived the test of time. I heard and felt the door’s traps and locks fall away at his touch.

  Hope rising, I moved to face the entrance. In my heart, I sensed the time had come at last.

  As the person who would surely prove to be my master took the final steps of the long staircase, a strange sensation flickered before me. It began as a tiny point floating in the impenetrable darkness—a gentle wisp that grew and spread, pushing back the void of my blindness.

  This must be light!

  LIGHT!

  Never in my existence had I seen anything, but before me at that moment shone a phenomenon of momentous proportion. Warmth bathed the entrance in a glorious pool of radiance which revealed a figure holding a torch in one hand and a tall staff in the other. An understanding of visual expression arose within me like the rest of my innate knowledge.

&
nbsp; I stared in wonder, basking in the effulgence for which I had waited centuries. The torch burned low, illuminating only a tiny area. Its subtle boundaries held back the familiar darkness.

  “Master?” I gaped, unable to contain my excitement. I towered over the heavily cloaked figure. Gratitude filled my—

  No.

  It could not be.

  The torchlight shifted, revealing a woman standing before me. She wore dark, shimmering robes, and her pale face was smooth and free of blemish. She stood not even half my height. Her long hair shone with the color of roaring heat, and it spilled out of her raised hood and down past her shoulders.

  She stared at me with wide eyes. I drank in the sight of her, fascinated by subtle shifts of musculature as emotion crossed her face. She took a fearful step backward, and I felt an irrational dread that she might take the light away.

  “No!” I rumbled, holding up my arm. I beheld the shape of my limb, thick and round, easily wider than the whole of her body. “Don’t leave.”

  Her hand holding the torch trembled less now, but I could still feel her heart beating fast.

  “So the legends are true,” she said. “You are the stone golem of Qual’Jom. I half expected you to not exist.” Her lips curved in a smile, and she stood taller. “Have you truly waited two thousand years for this Fire to be brought to you?”

  Her words formed sounds unlike any I’d heard before. She spoke not with the words of my master, or the invaders, or even the kovuls. But they were just words, and so I understood.

  “Time is endless for me,” I replied in the same language. It was not my nature to speak this much, but I did not want her to leave. I savored every beam of light, marveling at the detailed textures revealed by its nimbus.

  The woman’s eyes tiptoed behind me toward the inner cavern. Her face expressed caution before she stepped deeper into my dwelling. I felt the instinct to destroy her as I had the others, but I stayed my hand and followed her with my newly functioning eyes.

  “It is said,” she continued, walking toward my master’s bookshelf, “that you guard a vault of knowledge unequaled since the days of the ancient Emperor.”

  I said nothing as she came to stand before it. The itch to defend my master’s work overwhelmed me, and it took all my willpower to keep it at bay. Setting her staff against the rocky wall, she brushed the dust from the spine of a crumbled volume and pulled it down. Much of the dry leather disintegrated at her touch.

  “The wealth of wisdom here is beyond compare,” she whispered, her eyes dragging over the prize in her hand. “The old kovul legends claim you waited for something called Quolosin’s Fire.” She closed her eyes and her face shifted into a smile. “The years I spent tracking down this Fire—going to the Heavenly Forge itself!—have proven worthwhile. With this, Qual’Jom’s secrets of eternal life will be mine.”

  A hungry gleam shone in her eyes. Her desire for my master’s possessions triggered my long-held oaths and unleashed my protective instincts.

  I strode toward her. “My master’s dwelling is not to be disturbed.”

  Suddenly, the torch whipped away from me, and she held it over a puddle of water. “Harm me and I douse the Fire forever.”

  We stood there at a stalemate: she, unwilling to leave the treasure, and I, unable to jeopardize the light.

  At last she broke the silence. “You know he is dead.” Her eyes did not waver and I read the truth in them. “Qual’Jom’s lineage ended with him. He had no successor. You are all that remains.”

  My fists clenched, the stone grating beneath my fingers. A low growl rumbled deep within me. But the woman did not falter. “I am sorry for the loss you feel. You served your master well. In gratitude for protecting his treasure all these years, I release you. Quolosin’s Fire is yours.”

  She lifted the torch high, and the light expanded, fully revealing the cavern walls and floor. I looked upward and stood in awe.

  Carved runes and glyphs covered the walls of my master’s cavern. I had no memory of their making; they must have existed before my awakening. Diagrams and symbols illustrating the cosmos awakened deep knowledge within my consciousness. Overwhelmed, I stepped backward, and felt a profound sense of accumulated wisdom settle into me.

  The markings told the story of life everlasting. They sang of a place beyond time that was both origin and destination, of a place filled with supreme light and awareness. They whispered the secrets of the firmament from which I came. I drank in every shape and carved them forever into my memory.

  These glyphs danced across the walls in a symphony of pattern, leading my gaze toward the distant recess where the summoning circle rested. A faint glowing fungus coated the walls, but dared not cover the mystical runes.

  The beauty of those moments cannot be told. Had I the means of expressing it in any possible language, I would have sung.

  Stealing away from the wealth of beauty and secrets, I looked down at myself and marveled at my body, its contrasting shades of slate and granite carved from the foundation of the mountain. Thin lines of warm color inked their way around the heavier tints on my skin, like veins of precious metal spread through rock.

  My attention returned to the woman holding the magnificent torch. Her offer sang to me.

  Conflicting thoughts erupted in my mind. How long had I lied to myself about my master’s death? I knew even the foremost of humans lived only a few hundred years, far shorter than the two thousand she claimed I had waited in this dwelling. I knew even my master could not survive so long. With his lineage gone, was I free? Or trapped eternally?

  “Where would I go?” I had no concept of the world beyond the cavern.

  “Have you ever seen the stars?” she asked, her voice warm. “There’s a whole world beyond the dimness of this cavern. A world of light and beauty.” She gestured at the walls encasing us. “A world without boundaries.”

  Perhaps the moment had come to accept the truth about my master. Before me waited everything I had ever wanted.

  I held out my hand to accept the Fire.

  Yet as I reached out, I hesitated. My heavy hand looked cold beside the warmth of the Fire. Cut from the earth, I could see how I differed from this woman and everyone who’d ever come to my lair. The reminder that I was made of stone, and not the warm flesh of humanity, washed over me. I realized the outside world was not my place. How could it be? My master had crafted me for one purpose: to defend his legacy. That came before all else. Even my own desires.

  My arm wilted back to my side.

  The woman cocked her head askance.

  “No,” I rumbled. Deep down, I knew it had to be this way. “This is where I belong. Without this purpose, I am nothing. I shall remain, and protect my master’s legacy. Return the tome to its shelf.”

  The woman’s eyes hardened, and I felt anger and sorcery storm within her. “I will have this knowledge, golem. It has dwelt in this tomb too long.”

  I stepped toward her. “Replace the book. Leave.”

  She held her ground and pulled the torch away from me. “You will lose Quolosin’s Fire. Is that what you want?”

  Her words tore at my soul, but I remained firm.

  “Bah!” she snarled. Closing her eyes, she hummed, a buzzing sound rising in her throat. Quickly the hum turned into a mantra I did not understand. I felt sorcery in the air and grabbed for her. But before my rocky hand reached her, she punched the Fire into the air. A sudden flash of light blew out my vision, and I found myself in a blaze of overwhelming brilliance. I stumbled back, splintering the wooden table in the middle of the room.

  Enraged, I shook my head, trying to banish the blinding light. When at last I did, I perceived Quolosin’s Fire dimming and darkness encroaching upon me once more. My new vision vanished except for a fleeing halo emanating from the staircase.

  Then I realized she’d stolen my master’s tome.

  With a surge of panic I never before experienced, I leaped toward the entrance. The base of the stairway wa
s too small for me to pass through, but I would not lose the tome or the Fire. Desperate, I smashed my way through, roaring for her to return the stolen book.

  The light retreated faster, and I pounded my way through the long stairway. I extended myself into the rock, willing it to yield a path. What obstacles did not open before me were pulverized by the strength of my form. I united with the mountain and became an avalanche of raging earth and stone.

  The world around me quaked as my passage broke the roots of the mountain. Behind me, the stairway collapsed. Before me, the kovul door exploded as I charged forward.

  When I finally burst free of the mountain’s base I saw the woman standing with her back to a ledge, clutching the tome. A vicious smile played upon her face as she held the torch aloft. The light of Quolosin’s Fire spread wide, and I marveled.

  No ceiling towered above me. Only a pale, airy vault hung like a dome that could never be reached. Soft puffs lulled across its surface. I felt a crisp, fresh breeze wipe the dust from my skin. I could have stood there forever, rejoicing in that simple, surprising sensation.

  I reached up to discover whether I could grasp the gentle blue above. In that moment I envied the mountains, whose soaring peaks of stone could scrape this beautiful heaven.

  Suddenly, behind me, I felt the cliff and the tower atop its pinnacle shudder. A low rumbling awoke within the earth, and I felt the bedrock crack and die. Boulders plunged from above, smashing the earth and shaking the ground. Carved blocks from the tower rained upon me. I swatted some away, while others shattered harmlessly against my hardened form. A large piece of granite, sliced like a wedge, shattered the side of my head, ripping away much of my face.

  I felt no pain, only surprise and anger. The tower collapsed completely as the cliff beneath it fell away, crumbling into the ocean. The sound and chaos of the cascade overwhelmed even the crash of the sea. Watching in horror, I despaired at the fate I had brought my master’s dwelling. In the end it had not been invaders or sorcerers who desecrated and destroyed his home.